


Like the ceiling can't hold us

by West_by_the_End



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Drug Use, Drunk Sex, Episode: s05e04 The End, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Supernatural AU: Croatoan/End'verse, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-10 07:25:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/West_by_the_End/pseuds/West_by_the_End
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is back from 2014. He saw The End and he's resolved to make everything right and not let it happen. But Lucifer warned him, no matter what choices he makes and whatever details he alters, they'll always end up in that garden.</p><p>Basically, a Destiel End!verse fic of how Dean and Cas became their future selves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 2009

**Author's Note:**

> There'll be six chapters, one by year.  
> This one is a coda from season five.  
> There'll be Cas' and Dean's point of views.  
> I'll be editing the tags with each new chapter  
> (The Explicit warning is for the chapters to come : lot of NSFW to come)
> 
> Also, I'm french so there might be some misspellings (feel free to tell me about it).  
> (In fact, feel free to tell me anything)  
> A great thank you to my dear beta, Alanna. You're my angel. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this fic!

“Don’t ever change.” Dean says with a hand on Castiel’s shoulder.

It surprises the angel but he doesn’t comment. There is emotion in the human’s eyes and Castiel doesn’t quite understand why but it doesn’t matter. Somewhere in him, it feels warm and peaceful so he locks his eyes with Dean and it feels like home.

When Dean went back from the year 2014, he didn’t talk about it. He didn’t say a thing about what happened or what he saw, but he called Sam and they met behind a bridge. Castiel knows this because afterwards, Sam asked him if he knew what made Dean change his mind. But Castiel did not.

At first, Castiel can see it’s not easy for the brothers to manage. Sam keeps blaming himself for setting Lucifer free and for anything that is related one way or another, to demons. And whatever Dean said, he still has a hard time forgetting and forgiving. Castiel feels they lack confidence, Dean in Sam and Sam in himself.

Castiel thinks he understands. They really don’t have time for this, however. It’s already been a month since Lucifer found another vessel and even if they haven’t heard of him since the First Horseman showed up, it surely doesn’t mean he has stayed idle. The boys don’t seem to comprehend they have to act now, before Lucifer releases whatever he has in mind. But Castiel doesn’t say a thing. He gets mad sometimes, like when Dean refused to give him the amulet, but he doesn’t say a thing to them. It’s not his place. He knows the boys, knows their bond.

Sometimes, Castiel wishes he were part of it, even if he doesn’t really understand why, or what’s behind “it”.

Castiel also wishes they would explain him what’s in their mind. Like when they let the little Antichrist called Jesse escaped. He got mad that day too. Afterward, Castiel reckons it was a parallel with the boys themselves. Sam was making a point that the kid could be trusted, could make the good choices — but Castiel pointed out that he didn’t. He hurt Sam, he knows, but at the time he didn’t care. Dean didn’t want to kill the kid and had to — wanted to — believe Sam was right.

Castiel tries to find God with the amulet. He goes around the world, asks Chuck, and would have asked Anna if he had found her. Castiel doesn’t know where Anna is and he is worried. These days, Castiel is easily worried and sometimes, he wishes he were back to the times when he didn’t felt a thing. It was easier. Now, Castiel is torn by emotions he cannot even put a name on and concern is constantly on his shoulders, heavier than his wings.

When Sam and Dean disappear for a week, Castiel is more worried than ever. He searches thirty-five states but it proves to be useless. He is desperate enough to consider asking Heaven for help when Bobby spots Dean’s car in Ohio. Which is strange, because Dean would never leave the Impala by herself for too long. So Castiel looks for the boys and finds them trapped in TV land by the Trickster. Which again, is stranger, because even if tricksters are powerful, they don’t have such powers. Castiel is worried. He enters the world and finally gets to talk to the brothers.

“Cas, you okay?” Dean asks, and Castiel notices the hand that comes for him before he gets thrown onto the wall.

Castiel’s head echoes with a distant pain and when he stands up he can’t talk.

“Hi Castiel!” Gabriel exclaims and if Castiel were used to swearing, he would have, there and then. He meets Sam’s eyes and all goes black.

When he opens his eyes again, Castiel doesn’t know where he is. It looks like a shed. He is sitting on the floor and cannot move his limbs.

“Hello Brother!”, the archangel smirks.

“Where are they, Gabriel?” Castiel asks.

“Don’t worry. Someplace safe, I swear.” But Castiel narrows his eyes in suspicion. “Come on Cassie, you know you can trust me, right?” Gabriel sits next to Castiel, leans his head against the wall and sighs. “I’ve heard you rebelled.” It’s not a question but Gabriel seems to wait for an answer anyway. “Talk to me lil’ bro’! You know I won’t bite. I’m not Michael.” Castiel doesn’t say a thing though. He remembers well how Gabriel is difficult to understand half of the time. He implies things when he talks, he makes jokes and often, he says something but means the opposite, like Dean does. “Do you want to fall?” Gabriel asks.

Castiel looks outraged. “Lucifer fell!”, he says.

“Calm down buddy, I didn’t mean to offend you here. Just sayin’, you seem really close to those boys you know. Going against orders for them and all.”

“I do what I think is right”, Castiel explains. He hesitates a moment. Gabriel seems encouraging. He also left after all, so maybe, he could understand. “I don’t think Heaven’s plans are right. I still love our family, but the cause they defend is wrong. Dean proved to me that even if they are flawed, humans can be good, generous, and their love is very pure.”

“Did he now?” Gabriel asks, a gentle smile on his lips. “You would follow him to Hell and back, right?”

“I already did, actually”. Gabriel laughs but Castiel frowns because he doesn’t understand what the archangel is getting at.

“You’re a strange angel, lil’ brother. And you are lucky to have him”.

And just like that, Castiel is back with the boys. Gabriel is trapped in a holy fire and winks at the angel. Dean sees that and looks at Castiel, startled.

The boys call Castiel as he is wandering between India and Pakistan for he has heard someone there knew something about God’s whereabouts — which ended up being one more line to the disappointment list.

Dean says they need his help and Castiel is glad to comply. It’s about a demon called Crowley, who’s supposed to have the Colt. Castiel goes here and there, collects information and soon enough with the help of Ellen and Jo, they have a plan.

The boys come back in one piece, with the Colt and the Devil’s location. Castiel is suspicious but forgets all about it once Sam tells him they will go there, to Carthage, the next Thursday.

“Thursday? That’s in three days.” He says.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

“I’m serious Dean, you can’t go there unprepared, that’s reckless.”

“If we got a chance to ice the Devil Cas, we’re gonna take it without second thoughts.” Pause. “You coming or not?” Their eyes meet but Castiel can’t stand the gaze. He looks at the floor. The mission is unwise, but Castiel is used to that attitude from the Winchesters. However, the circumstances are not the usual ones and they are talking about Lucifer. It’s suicidal.

Castiel looks up and open his mouth to say something but instead come the words “Of course”, and he doesn’t regret them for one second.

The day after, it is decided they would go by car. When Castiel offers to go first and see by himself, Dean refuses. Sam and Jo try to argue, saying it would be a good thing to have some information, to know where they were going. Bobby and Ellen agree but the older brother stays adamant; “It’s too dangerous. I have faith in you, man, I have. But, what if you get caught. It’s a one shot, we don’t have time for that.” At the words, Castiel feels a little something in his chest, an ache for not being trusted, but he remains silent.

The evening before Carthage, the atmosphere is very light. They don’t talk about it much. Castiel hears Sam and Dean arguing in the back but is distracted by the blond girl. “You want a beer?” she asks.

“No, thank you.” Castiel answers. “I- I don’t drink beverages made of alcohol”. And on reflection, he doesn’t drink at all. Jo and Ellen look at him and he wiggles on his chair, ill-at-ease.

“You’re kidding me right?” Jo seems amused.

“I am not. Kidding you.”

“Like, never?”

”Like never.” He repeats.

“Bring the vodka, Sweetie” Ellen says, “We’ve got an angel to get drunk.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea”, Castiel protests. But already, Jo has put shot glasses in front of him and her mother, and pours some translucent liquid.

Ellen drinks two glasses and winces. “Alright big boy” she says, “Go”. So Castiel brings one shot to his mouth. The scent is strong. He drinks another one. So is the taste. And another. There is a burning sensation in his throat when he swallows, but it’s actually not bad. Castiel finishes the line of shots in front of him and when he looks up, Jo and Ellen are open mouthed.

“I think I’m starting to feel something”, he says calmly.

The women look at him another minute or so before Jo stands up and pats her mother’s back. “He totally Legolas’d you on that one”. Castiel doesn’t pay attention as she goes to the fridge, until he sees Dean join her. They are close, and Dean put his arm near her. He leans when he talks and has this spark in the eyes. Castiel feels something in his gut and a growl gets stuck in his throat. He looks away.

When they arrive in the city, Reapers are everywhere. “Something is wrong”, he whispers. The brothers went to check the gas station so he tells Jo and Ellen that he has to see what’s going on and will be back soon. The Reapers are standing still, all looking in the same direction so Castiel goes that way and follows their stares until he faces a three floor building with a neon sign. He flies to the second floor. It is dark inside but he can see someone at the end of the corridor. He approaches the shape without a sound but as he reaches the room, he is surrounded by holy fire.

“Hello Brother.”

“Lucifer.” Fear suddenly rises in Castiel.

Neither of them speaks for a little while. Enough time for Castiel to regain composure.

“So I take it you're here with the Winchesters?” Lucifer asks.

“I came alone.” he lies.

“Loyalty.” Lucifer says quietly. “Such a nice quality to see in this day and age. Castiel, right? What a peculiar thing you are.”

Castiel is puzzled. If he had known he would be talking to the Devil, he would have expected more blood, less common talk. That’s when he notices the lesions on his brother’s face. “What's wrong with your vessel?”

“Yes, um. Nick is wearing a bit thin, I'm afraid. He can't contain me forever, so...”

Castiel understand what the archangel implies and steps forward, forgetting the holy fire. “You are not taking Sam Winchester. I won't let you.”

“I don't understand why you're fighting. Me, of all the angels.”

“You really have to ask?” Castiel answers.

“Come on Castiel. I rebelled, I was cast out, you rebelled, you were cast out. Almost all of Heaven wants to see me dead and if they succeed guess what? You're their new public enemy number one. We're on the same side, like it or not, so, why not just serve your own best interests, which in this case just happen to be mine.”

For less than a second, Castiel hesitates. Lucifer seems to detect the doubt in him and smiles faintly. But then, Castiel remembers the Devil‘s plan is to exterminate human kind and that’s it. “I'll die first.”

Lucifer sighs, obviously disappointed. “I suppose you will.” he says, and leaves.

Castiel is left in that fire circle for something like two hours before someone appears. Outside, it’s getting dark and he doesn’t hear anything anymore. Meg is chanting her victory and Castiel answers, playing for time. An hour ago, there was shooting and hellhounds barking.

But since he heard the explosion five buildings away, nothing. The pipes over the head of the demon are loosening, bit by bit. He still doesn’t know if it will work but he has no other choice. Nothing since the explosion, not a voice, and he doesn’t like that at all. What if something happened? What if the boys... Finally, the pipes break. Castiel throws Meg in the fire and flies out.

He hears Sam’s prayers not far away, appears next to the brothers and brings them back to Bobby’s in no time.

“Where the fuck have you been Cas?” Dean tackles him to the nearest wall. “Where the hell were you all that time, you son of a bitch?”

Sam grabs Dean by the shoulder. “Let him go Dean, it’s not his fault. Come on, let him go.” Castiel doesn’t understand and frowns. There is anger in Dean’s eyes. A lot of anger. And grief. Castiel looks at Sam. “Ellen and Jo,” he whispers, and Castiel understands. The explosion. Surely it was the explosion. And Dean blames him because he wasn’t there to help and surely Dean is thinking that if he had let Castiel go first, they would have known, they could have prevent that. So, of course, Dean blames himself.

“Dean, I’m sorry,” Castiel says, because, even if he was trapped, even if he could not have done a thing, he is. He leaves without giving time for Sam to say anything and for Dean to look at him.

For two weeks, Castiel watches the boys from afar, still unsure of the welcome he would receive. But one day, his cellphone rings and it’s Dean at the other end.

They have to deal with Famine, the Horseman, and it gets pretty bad. Castiel feels useless in front of Sam’s hunger and well, his own is also pretty difficult to manage. At one point, Castiel is fine and peaceful, but the next moment, he craves for food, drinks and love. Castiel doesn’t quite understand how because his mind is still blurred, but the point is, they end up locking Sam in the panic room.

When Castiel joins Dean outside the house, he fears to be rejected. As the Winchester boy doesn’t object, Castiel leans on the impala, next to him. He makes sure not to come in his personal space but not to be too far either. Castiel has observed how Sam handles the whole personal space thing and this time, the angel is pretty sure he does it right. Dean drinks his bear and stays silent. Awkwardly, Castiel says “You got the car back”. He avoids to specify “from Carthage”.

“Yeah”, Dean chuckles. “A real pain in the ass, no thank you for that”.

After another silence, Castiel begins : “Dean, I’m so—“

“Stop, Cas. You’ve nothing to apologize for, it was my fault. And I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

“Dean”, Castiel says, and he waits for the man to look at him. “Are you okay?”

Dean lifts his beer to his mouth but finishes by putting it aside. “I’m tired man.” Castiel first wants to tell him he needs to go to sleep but then he understands it’s figurative. Castiel still is uncomfortable with these kind of discussions even if he tends to be better at it. “I’m tired of this damn Apocalypse, of Lucifer and Michael. I’m tired of this life.” Dean says without looking at him. Castiel doesn’t know if it is the moment for a comforting touch so he doesn’t try.

“Do you want me to fetch you some pie?” He asks, because he knows pies make Dean happy. Dean grins at him, gratitude in the eyes and Castiel feels warm.

Soon enough however, emptiness and despair replace the warmth and hope in Castiel’s chest. Dean and Sam come back from Heaven. They met Joshua who told them God was not going to interfere. That is how Castiel becomes familiar with the feeling of abandonment. First came the rage and then the pain. But in the end, there is just a hollow where before there was faith. When the boys are faced with the Whore of Babylon, Castiel just doesn’t care.

“I got your message. It was long, your message.” Castiel tells Sam one night. He hasn’t seen the boys in two days and the youngest Winchester called for help. Castiel still helps, of course, because he would always be here for them, but honestly, what would he fight for by himself? “I find the sound of your voice grating.”

Sam doesn’t know if he should smile or be worried, so his figures twist into an odd face. “What's wrong with you?” he asks. “Are you... drunk?”

“No!” Castiel says. But he knows what he looks like, and his walk is really messy. So, who is he kidding? “Yes.”

“What the hell happened to you?”

“I found a liquor store.”

“And?” Sam goes to support him as he staggers towards the bed.

“And I drank it!”

There is surprise in the boy’s eyes but Castiel doesn’t pay attention. He sits on the bed, Sam beside him. “Are you okay, Cas?” And Castiel laughs bitterly, because it curiously sounds exactly like what he asked Dean a few days ago.

“Don’t ask stupid questions.” He answers, turning his head toward Sam and finding his face closer than he expected. Suddenly, Castiel is back to that night Famine was in town. Suddenly, Castiel has urges he is not used to. He looks at Sam’s eyes, at his cheekbones, at the line of his jaw and at his lips. If he leans up a few inches, those lips would be on his and Castiel really wants to know how it ‘d feel like. Sam’s breath is hot on his cheek and Castiel notes his pupils are wide. He gently strokes Sam’s fingers next to his hand but when the angel moves a little, Sam puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Cas”, he whispers, “Come on Cas, you would regret that”. Sam stands up. “You better sleep and… and wait for Dean to come back.”

Castiel lies down the bed and closes his eyes without saying anything else. He doesn’t sleep because he never did and Sam knows that but maybe, Castiel thinks, it’s an easier way out for both of them.

In the following weeks, Dean‘s spirit gets worse. He drinks a lot, Castiel has noticed, and not only beer, but scotch and whiskey. Each time Sam tells him to go easy on it, they end up fighting. Bobby doesn’t say a thing, but that’s pretty much how he rolls since Ellen and Jo died. They don’t need Castiel’s help but he stays around anyway. Castiel doesn’t like the look on Dean’s face nor how he constantly rolls his eyes and sighs excessively but all in all, the angel is far from understanding what’s on his mind. He fears Dean might do something stupid and Dean does sooner than the angel expected. When Dean disappears, Sam looks for him and finds him in a motel, two states away. Castiel follows but decides to stay by the door.

“Sending someone a candy-gram?” Sam says.

“How do you find me?”

“Gonna kill yourself, right? It’s not too hard to figure out the stops on the Farewell Tour. How’s Lisa doing, anyways?”

“I'm not going to kill myself.” He hears Dean say in the other room.

“No? So Michael's not about to make you his Muppet?” Sam snaps. “What the hell, man? This is how it ends? You just…walk out?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Just…please. Not now. Bobby is working on something.”

Oh, really? What?” But Sam doesn’t answer. “You got nothing and you know it.”

“You know I have to stop you.”

“Yeah, well, you can try. Just remember: You’re not all hopped up on demon blood this time.”

“Yeah, I know. But I brought help.

When Dean turns around, Castiel is standing behind him. He puts his fingers on his forehead, knocking him out, and flies to Bobby’s.

Sam doesn’t seem too happy to put his brother in the panic room. But Bobby’s right, if Dean doesn’t give up his stupid idea, they don’t have a choice. Castiel is angry. Angry because after everything he said, Dean wants to give up. After everything, his words are just wind. But most of all, Castiel is angry because he understands. Dean lost faith, Castiel lost faith. He doesn’t know what or who they are supposed to fight anymore. How is he supposed to convince Dean if he doesn’t believe anymore? So Castiel waits for Sam outside.

“I’m serious. I mean, think about how many people we've gotten killed, Sam. Mom, Dad, Jess, Jo, Ellen. Should I keep going?” Dean says, and Castiel smiles slightly because it’s true.

“It’s not like we pulled the trigger.” Sam answers.

“We might as well have. I’m tired, man. I’m tired of fighting who I'm supposed to be.”

“Well, do you think maybe you could take a half a second and stop trying to sacrifice yourself for a change? Maybe we could actually stick together?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not? Dean, seriously. Tell me. I—I want to know.”

“I just…I—I don’t believe.”

“In what?”

“In you. I mean, I don’t. I don’t know whether it’s gonna be demon blood or some other demon chick or what, but…I do know they're gonna find a way to turn you.”

Castiel flies out. He doesn’t want to hear more of it.

Castiel goes to Lisbon, Rome and the Vatican, Jerusalem and Bethlehem. He hopes it will help him to regain faith but it only manages to tire him. People believe in God, they pray and hope. They trust his Father and Castiel feels like He abandoned them as much as him, but at least, Castiel is aware of it.

When he comes back, Dean is gone.

“He could not have gone too far,” Bobby says, but the angel notices doubt in his voice. “Sam went to get him.”

Castiel goes anyway, searches the nearest city while he feels fury growing in him and it’s new. When Castiel finds Dean, he slams him into the wall and breathes heavily. He just wants to hit and hurt Dean, because if he gives up, what about the angel? What will he become?

“I rebelled for this?! So that you could surrender to them?” Castiel yells and he beats him. Blow after blow, until Dean begs him to stop. “I gave everything for you. And this is what you give to me.” Castiel feels angry, sad, and powerless. Castiel feels betrayed. Dean is on his knees, bruises blossoming on his face and blood streaming down his neck.

“Do it.” Dean says. For a minute, Castiel stands still, hands closed in fists. Dean wants Castiel to kill him. “Just do it!” And Castiel should do it. Because if Dean says yes, if Michael takes his vessel, it would be the end of the world. Castiel steps closer. But Dean is looking at him in the eyes as if the angel is an open book and it feels like home and Castiel can’t.

He squats in front of Dean and cups his jaw with his hand. “You would let the end of the world happen?” The touch is gentle and all marks of wounds vanish. “You would leave Bobby?” He brushes his finger on the freckles under Dean’s eye. “You would let your brother down? That’s not like you Dean Winchester.” Castiel says before making Dean sleep.

Dean sleeps for a week after that. Sam and Bobby are worried but Castiel knows it’s okay. Dean recovers from his physical and mental tiredness and that takes time. Most of the time, he is quiet, but sometimes, Dean is shaking from his nightmares and Castiel is always there to hold his hand. Sam notices it calms his brother so he encourages the angel to keep doing it. Sam smiles often but Castiel doesn’t really understand why.

The day before Dean wakes up, Sam sits in front of Castiel. “Can I talk to you man?” There is concern on his face, and another thing that Castiel fails to identify. The angel nods. “When…when we saw the trickster. I mean… when we saw Gabriel, he told me if we couldn’t kill the Devil, he knew a way to put him back in his cage.” And so Sam tells him how the four rings of the four horsemen could open the cage and how he, Sam, had a part to play.

"Yes to Lucifer. Then jump in the hole. It's an interesting plan.”

“So? Go ahead and tell me it's the worst plan you ever heard.”

“Of course. I am happy to say that if that's what you want to hear. But it's not what I think.”

“Really?”

“That’s crazy, but, you and Dean have a habit of exceeding my expectations. Maybe you could resist Lucifer. There are things that you need to know though.”

“Like what?” Sam asks.

“Dean will never accept it.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t understand it. Sam....If you say yes to Lucifer, either you achieve to jump and save the planet, or you fail, and the collateral... It'll be immense. But in both cases, Dean loses you.”

“I know.”

“Sam, he will never-”

“I know, Castiel, I KNOW. That’s why I need you Cas.” Sam pauses and locks his eyes with the angel’s. “That’s why I need you to tell Dean that once I’m in the cage, you’ll be able to rescue me, like you did for him.” Castiel has difficulty breathing. In fact, it might be the worst plan he ever heard of.

“Are you serious?” he asks.

“Dead serious.” Sam says, and Castiel sees that he is, and more than that, that he already made up his mind.

“I can’t Sam. I can’t lie to him. Not about that. Not about you.” And for the first time since he was born, for the first time since he saw the Earth be created ex nihilo, since he learnt to follow orders and his Father, since he met two lonely brothers who taught him to love and hope, since he learnt to smile and laugh; for the first time since he became the most human angel of creation, Castiel felt tears in his eyes.

“But you will Cas, you will,” Sam says, and he takes the angel in his arms and Castiel knows he will.

“You can’t be serious.” Dean says when they explain the plan to him. He goes from Sam to Bobby to Castiel and back to Bobby. “You knew about this?” he asks. Castiel and Bobby nod. “That’s insane.”

“Come on Dean, for the record...I agree with you. Believe me, I know exactly how screwed up I am. But I don’t think we have too many choices here.”

“So what,” Dean addresses Castiel without paying attention to his brother. “You knock me down when I want to say yes to Michael but him, he can be ridden to the prom by the Devil and you don’t care?”

“That’s not how it is Dean,” Sam interrupts.

“Shut up, Sammy.”

“The stakes are different” Castiel tells him, glancing at Sam. “If you say yes, there would be only more deaths. If Sam says yes, we have a chance to stop it all.” Castiel is relieved when he sees Dean calm down.

“And… and if he succeeds, you can bring him back from the cage?”

Castiel avoids Sam’s look when he says “Yes.” The angel feels guilty as he sees the process of thoughts on Dean’s face.

“We could do it, Dean. I could do it. Take Lucifer, jump into the pit, end the Apocalypse. It’s all we want, right? All this year, that was our goal. Now we’ve got a chance to achieve it. Let me do this Dean. Let me prove to you I changed.”

Dean passes his hand on his jaw and chin, on the sides of his open mouth. After a few moments, he nods, facing the other side of the room. “Yeah, okay. Okay. But I’m warning you,” he says, turning back to them, pointing at Sam and Castiel, “this better work, all of it, or I’m gonna kill the both of you.”

Yes, this all better work. But then what? Once Sam has jumped, how will Castiel explain to Dean that no, he can’t bring his brother back?

So that Sam can take over Lucifer, demon blood is more than needed and during the two next weeks, they hunt down seven demons, bleeding them dry.

Sam is careful not to succumb to panic. But Castiel can see his anxiety and if Castiel sees it, Dean must have to.

Dean’s face remains cloudy and neither Sam nor Castiel manage to read his mind. However, when Bobby tells them he spotted two places where demonic omens were such that it could mean the Devil‘s presence, Dean picks the second one without a pause.

“Detroit. It’s there.” Sam and Bobby look at each other but nobody dares asking why Detroit. When he leaves the room, Dean whispers “He said it would always happen in Detroit,” and Castiel reads fear in his eyes.

They make preparation for another week. The brothers fight the third day because Dean is not sure anymore but Sam doesn’t bend. Finally, they agree that Castiel has to go first. When he comes back, he tells the brothers that the part where the demonic omens were is empty except for a single block. They decide to go the day after and Dean doesn’t have a choice.

That night, Castiel is unable to do anything. He leans against the Impala, looking at the stars when Dean leans next to him. “How are you feeling?”

“I should ask you that question.” Castiel answers.

The man chuckles, “I can’t eat, I can’t think and I certainly can’t sleep.”

“That must be difficult for you.”

“Yeah, well, we are talking about my brother saying yes to Lucifer, right?”

“Yes, I’m sorry.”

“Stop being sorry Cas, you don’t have to. You’ve helped. A lot.” Castiel understands that in Dean’s world, it’s a thank you. “I mean it man, you’re family, you know that, right?” Dean’s hand goes on the angel’s shoulder and brushes his hair after a few seconds. “I don’t know how you do it, Cas, but you always have this sex hair, it’s kinda… disturbing.” Even into the night, Castiel can see the faint smile on the man’s lips and he feels his cheeks blushing. “Tomorrow, all this will be over.”

“Yes”, Castiel says, “I’m sorry.”

Castiel flies directly to Detroit and waits there for the brothers.

They are in front of the building Castiel has located. Sam walks to the trunk of the impala, where the open jugs of demon blood sit.

“You mind not watching this?” He says to Dean who walks away. Sam picks up a jug. When he finishes, he clears his throat and closes the trunk. He goes to the angel and takes him in his arms. Castiel is surprised, doesn’t know what to do with his own arms and finally leaves them where they are. “Take care of him Cas.” Sam murmurs. “Don’t lose him. He’ll need you.” He pats him in the back before letting go of him. “Okay. Let's do this.”

Sam walks past his brother. “You wait for us here. You hear me Cas? You wait for me!” Dean says before following him. Castiel nods and watches them go.

The waiting is unbearable. Twenty-two times, Castiel almost breaks, but never once does he take a step further. He doesn’t leave the Impala, he stays right where he was told to wait for them. It’s minutes, hours or maybe days before the pure white light blinds him. It’s nighttime already but for a second, the whole city is full of light and Castiel hears the sharp voice of Lucifer, ringing, high and powerful. It happened. Sam said yes. But it wasn’t over yet. From that moment, Castiel stops breathing. He is an angel and doesn’t need to. It’s more like a habit, really. Yet, rather curiously, Castiel’s chest hurts like hell and his heart is heavier than usual. He looks at the window of the second floor and tries not to listen to the little voice in his head that whispers that something is wrong. But the more he tries not to listen, the more he hears it. Soon enough, it becomes a howl and Castiel can’t take it anymore.

He flies to the second floor and finds Sam beating Dean up. Castiel supposes it’s Dean because he has his clothes but he can’t see his face behind the blood. And actually, it takes a moment too long for Castiel to understand that it’s not Sam who is hitting him to the bones.

“Hello Brother.” Lucifer says and the sentence comes out Sam Winchester’s lips. But it’s not Sam. The figures are his but the expressions are not. The voice is his, but the tone is not. When Castiel looks in his eyes, he sees nothing else but the Devil. Not a single unique tiny hint of Sam Winchester.

“What are you waiting for” Castiel says “Kill us.”

Lucifer is startled. “Kill you? What for?” He smiles and goes and looks out the window. “No. You see, I made a promise to that hairless ape you love so much and I have to keep it.” He looks at Castiel, now by Dean’s side. He’s not dead, not even unconscious. He is there, just unable to talk. “You can take him, we’ll meet again anyway, him, you and me—”

Castiel doesn’t wait for the end of this sentence. Dean seems to understand what he plans to do and tries to protest but in vain. Screams are lost in his throat as Castiel bring both of them back to Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

As soon as they’re back, Castiel cleans Dean up and the foggy protestations become audible shouts. “BRING ME BACK. CAS. BRING ME FUCKING BACK YOU BASTARD.”

“Dean, calm down, Dean-“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP AND BRING ME BACK TO SAMMY.” Castiel is knelt before Dean and he didn’t move. “NOW!”

“Dean, he is gone.”

“I SAID NOW YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE.”

And as he swears, Dean’s punch goes into Castiel’s nose. It hurts, but less than he believed it would. Dean keeps on shouting and swearing and hitting him until Castiel can’t distinguish his words from the constant whistle inside his head. Only then he says: “Dean. I’m sorry.” And Dean’s right hand stops in midair while the left one tighten his grip on the angel’s throat.

“No, you’re not, Cas.” Dean says, his mouth only a few inches from Castiel’s. “Not yet.”


	2. 2010

“Hey Bobby,” Dean says when he picks up his ringing phone.

“It’s good to hear you, kid. How are you doing?” The man’s voice is low and worried.

“Fine Bobby, and if you all quit asking that, it would be a whole lot better”. Dean is angry. But that’s basically how he has been for the past three months. “Got anything for me?”

“Yes actually. You remember those signs we saw in Oklahoma two weeks ago? Well, they’re back. I dug a little and I’m thinking Crowley might be there.”

“And?”

“Well, I don’t know if he would help but, you know, ‘costs nothing to ask.”

“He’s a demon Bobby. Remember last time he helped us?” Last time, Jo and Ellen were still alive.

“I know kid.” There is no argument following but Dean hears it anyway “But we don’t have many choices.” Crowley remains not too fond of Lucifer. He is as wanted as the hunters, maybe even more. In the state of things, Dean knows he is a little too choosy but still, he shouldn’t be all-friendly with a demon despite the fact the said demon isn’t exactly Team-Devil. However, it’s all they have recently, not many choices. And it pisses him off. “If you won’t go, I can still ask to—“

“No.” Dean snaps “No, it’s okay, I will go."

“Haven’t you called him yet?”

“Bobby, I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Listen to me Idjit, I don’t know what happened between you two and I seriously don’t give a rat’s ass. But you’ve got to stop being childish Dean, he—“

“I don’t care Bobby. I just don’t care, okay? I’ll call you later.” He hangs up and throws his phone on the passenger sit.

He is four states away. If he drives fast, he can be in Oklahoma by the end of the week. 

He looks at the phone. Maybe he should call Bobby back, to apologize. The man just wants to help him, Dean knows, but he can’t handle being pitied by everyone like that. Not that he talks to a lot of people though.

Dean increases the volume of the stereo because music prevents him from thinking too much and that’s just what he needs.

It lasts a few minutes and then Dean’s thoughts are lost in regrets again.

He hasn’t talked to the angel since that night. In his mind the same as with everyone else –well, Bobby mostly—, Dean avoids avoids pronouncing any name. Not Sammy’s, not Cas’.

Dean tries all he can to forget about that night in Detroit –which is completely stupid because his current life is based on that night. The two most important people of his life nearly died on that night. Sam is somewhere, fighting to take over Lucifer in vain. Dean saw how easy it had been for the archangel to reduce his brother’s will to dust. One moment, he was Sam, the next, he was not, blathering his sympathy-for-the-Devil-crap with no more than pity in his eyes. Dean tried to wake Sam up, calling his name a million times but nothing happened. And when Lucifer became sick of the older Winchester, he broke his jaw and his nose while still talking. He told him how everything had been for that precise moment, from the day his parents met to the so-called rescue from the cage he was lied about. At that moment, Dean’s eyes had gone wild with disbelief.

And then Cas appeared and brought them back to Bobby’s. Dean hadn’t waited for too long before passing his grief and fury on the angel’s pretty face. When Cas apologized, Dean became someone else, like possessed by Wrath. He wanted to hurt Cas, to ripe his heart out and most of all, to taint his grace. His mind went blank. Dean caught Cas’ lips and kissed him as if to crush his bones. He stripped the angel from his trench coat and his jacket, pushing him against the wall. He pulled his hair far too roughly and bit his neck until the skin broke. He put his leg between Cas’ tights and unbuckled his belt. His hand went to Cas’ crotch and he tightened his grip. Not once did the angel protest and when he realized that, Dean stopped. He took a few steps backwards and watched him. Cas was messed up, his eyes were lost and when he looked up to Dean, he whispered one more time that he was sorry. Dean told him to leave and the angel flew away.

He hasn’t seen Cas since that night, three months ago. Dean is still mad at the angel for lying to him and rescuing him. But if he can’t talk about it with Bobby, it’s because he is ashamed of what he did. Violating someone, an angel, Cas. What if he hadn’t stopped? Would he have gone till the end? Would he have done that to Cas? Sam and Dean had gotten into some memorable fights but Dean never had those kinds of thoughts, of desires before. For anyone. Dean had wanted to taint him and somehow, deep down, he still wants to. That scares the hell out of him. 

So Dean drives. From South Dakota to Oregon and Arizona and Alabama and now Oklahoma. He actually hadn’t had a real goal at first; he just needed to get away. But soon, he found himself searching for old translations of the Bible, hoping to find something in them that could kick the Devil out of Sam’s body. He gave up at the thirty-fourth and went for other texts instead, other psalms and lesser known gospels. However, that also was a dead end.

Twice, he had crossed the path of other hunters and each time, Dean had ended up passed out in the Impala, blood on his face and knuckles. They blamed him for not being able to stop the Devil. Mostly they blamed him for not killing his brother in time. Dean noticed they still didn’t know he had literally handed his brother to Lucifer. But he doesn’t care about what they think at the moment or what they’ll discover. They could never blame him more than he blames himself.

Bobby had called Dean the morning after the second encounter. They were three hunters and Dean got out with what he thinks is a couple of cracked ribs.

When Dean arrives at not to the address Bobby sent him, he is surprised. It’s a small and shabby flat in a dirty building just out of town. Dean was expecting more Paris Hilton’s house, not the Ninja Turtles’ sewer. Crowley doesn’t seem very healthy either. He is still suited up but Dean wonders how long it has been since he’s had a change of clothes. Not that he is concerned about a demon’s outfit, it’s just another –weird— reminder that the world is coming to an end.

“What are you? A Splinter?” Dean jokes, but he doesn’t have the strength to smile, much less to laugh.

“I’m Hell’s most wanted! That’s what I am cause of your brilliant mind, chucklehead!” Crowley snaps. “How did you find me anyway?”

“You leave your traces.” Dean answers vaguely, because honestly, except for those omens, he has no idea how Bobby knew it was Crowley and where he was exactly.

“Bullshit.” The crossroad demon says lower. “What do you want?”

Dean frowns a little. “Why would I want something from you?”

“Uhm, I don’t know, maybe because you came to me and you started the Apocalypse and your brother is actually the fucking Devil and you want to bring him back?”

“He is not—“

“Oh, please shut up! I don’t have time for your whining. They want my head and that’s entirely your fault! So let’s end this quick, I have to move to another city, Hell I would move to Gallifrey if I could!”

“Is there?” Dean asks. “Is there some way to bring him back?” From wherever he is.

“Why not ask your little angel?”

Dean is startled by the question and begins to get angry. “Cas and I haven’t talked since Detroit.”

“I know.”

Dean doesn’t understand. “You know?”

“Hello. Have you met me? I know.” And there definitely is a rictus on his lips that Dean doesn’t like at all. “I talked to him,” he adds without paying attention to Dean’s confused face. “He has some interesting theories, really. I’m not saying they are good or sane or even realizable, but at least, they are interesting.” Dean knows Crowley won’t say more about it. So he closes his eyes and puts his hand together like he used to do what seems to be years ago.

“Cas, it’s me. Can you come here, man? I need to talk to you.”

Not a second later, he hears a flush of wings and Castiel is standing before him. Dean immediately sees something is off with the angel. He seems restless and frowns as if he had a headache. If Dean didn’t know better, he would even say Castiel lost weight. When their eyes meet, Cas turns to Crowley. “Why is he here?” And that’s weird, because he is asking the question to Crowley, about Dean, not the other way around. His tone is more than irritated and it brings Dean back to the last time they saw each other. Curiously enough, he hadn’t thought about that while calling the angel. But now, shame comes to his cheeks and sadness floods him as he realizes Castiel can’t stand his presence.

“Relax Castiel, I did no harm to your human.” Crowley says in his Scottish accent. “You and I know how important he is, don’t we?” Cas actually blushes –fucking blushes—at that and Crowley smiles. Dean is just more puzzled than ever. “Come on Angel; tell our friend here what solutions we have to prevent Lucifer from deep-frying the planet.”

Castiel keeps his eyes on the floor when he talks to Dean and that’s like a white hot knife in the heart. “Well, the Colt won’t work as we know, we still have the horsemen rings but throwing the Devil into the pit is hopeless, the angels are not strong enough to take him down, any more than rogue demons like Crowley and of course, saying yes to Michael is out of question.”

Dean stays silent for a moment, looking from Cas to Crowley and back. “How is any of that crap supposed to save Sam?” He asks, fists tight.

“I’m sorry,” Crowley answers, stepping forward. “Did you think I was talking about saving your brother’s ass? He cannot be saved, boy! I gave you the Colt, I gave you the rings and you still managed to put us in that fucking mess. I don’t care about your brother, he is dead already!”

“Crowley!” Cas called, but it was too late, Dean was already on the demon, his arm across the little man’s throat, Ruby’s knife next to his eyes.

“Do not. Ever. Talk about Sam like that.” That might be fear he sees flashing in the demon’s iris but he can’t be sure. Castiel is calling him, voice low like a plea so Dean steps back, but not without a last pressure on Crowley’s throat first.

The crossroad demon brushes his shoulders with the back of the hand. “I can’t. I can’t work with morons like him,” he tells Castiel. “If he still considers Lucifer’s vessel as his little baby brother, fine, but I won’t risk my head on that nonsense.” And just like that, he is gone.

Dean looks around the room even if he already knows he won’t see him before long.

“So. You befriend demons now?” Dean asks once they’re in the Impala, back on the road. Castiel is looking through the window and Dean wonders why he didn’t think about that earlier. If Bobby knew where Crowley was, it obviously was thanks to Cas.

“I don’t befriend demons. We could have made a use of Crowley.” God knows why but Dean feels relieved of something he didn’t even know was there.

“Yeah, speaking of which. I don’t understand how any of your solutions were good theories by the way.”

“They are not.” Dean looks at the road and remembers Crowley hadn’t said good but interesting. Well, he doesn’t see that either.

They don’t talk for the next two hundred miles and if it doesn’t seem to affect the angel, Dean is more than embarrassed. He tries to speak but the apologies get stuck in his throat. He finally goes for something more casual. “Cas, are you okay?” Castiel turns his head towards Dean and looks at him for the first time since they left Oklahoma City. “Listen, about last time—“

“Nothing happened Dean. You were sad and angry and I was… Sam…” Dean flinches at the name and is going to protest at the use of it but stops when he sees Cas’ expression. “Sam was… is…” There are lines on the angel’s forehead. More than Dean ever saw. “Nothing

happened.” He understands Castiel can’t find the words to express himself and that’s kind of new. Cas always had a problem trying to comprehend humans but never to speak with them. He never tried to put words on emotions before, though.

“Cas, are you okay?” he repeats. “Talk to me man, you’re worrying me.”

“Don’t be. I’m okay.” He says, and he contemplates the window again. If there ever was a moment, it’s gone.

Cas’ eyes are lost somewhere Dean can’t reach and that only increases his concern. He glances at him from time to time before the realization hits him in the gut. Cas never tried to put words on emotions before. Cas never had emotions before. He is feeling. Suddenly, it’s so clear and obvious that it scares Dean. He wants to touch him, to put his hand on his jaw in a comforting kind of way but he doesn’t. Dean is not good with comfort. Dean is good with pain and self-loathing and concern, but he doesn’t know comfort except with a girl or in a drink. Cas wouldn’t want that.

As the months pass, nothing changes. Dean keeps on searching a way to save Sam, either at Bobby’s or anywhere else. He visits every ancient church possible, asks every theologian he can find, looks at some pagan legends, but there is nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“Don’t you think it’s too calm?” Bobby asks him sometimes.

“What do you mean?” Dean always answers.

“He is quiet.” And Dean understands.

“What do you make of last month‘s earthquake? And the bloodshed?” Chicago, the previous Monday. It had begun with a shout-out between gangs. The police hadn’t been powerful enough. After two days, they had sent the army. Soon enough it became an urban guerilla. Civilians were caught in the fire. Six hundred and forty five people were hurt, three hundred and seventeen died, eighty three still were between life and death. The President was forced to resign. But Dean doesn’t need such events to spot demons’ involvement miles away.

“Yeah,” Bobby says, “but, you know, I was expecting something else would have happened by now. Something bigger. Apocalyptic bigger.”

Dean knows one way or another, they will end up talking about Sam so he changes the subject of the conversation. “Did you see Cas recently?”

“Not for a few weeks. Why? What about him?”

Dean hesitates. Cas has been weird lately. Absent-minded, upset, weak. He doesn’t answer to Dean’s prayers as often. In fact, he doesn’t answer to Dean anymore. “Nothing,” Dean says because he doesn’t want to worry Bobby and that’s probably not important.

> Cas, it’s me. I’m in Lexington, Nebraska. Come and find me when you get this message, I could use your help. 

> Hey Cas, it’s Dean. I’m in Seattle. Something is up here, too many omens for a town. Call me. 

Dean visits Phoenix but it’s a dead end again.

> Cas, I’m at Bobby’s right now, we might have found something. 

> Fuck, Cas, answer your damn phone. 

Between Oakland and San Diego, Dean faces a demon. Not that it hasn’t happened before but this one is blathering things Dean doesn’t want to hear. About Lucifer. And Sam. And Cas.  
“Your angel has disappeared, hasn’t he?”  
“That’s not your business.”  
The demon laughs. “Oh, believe me, that is.” The smile on his face is too much. The next second, Dean kills him.

> Dammit Cas, I’m worried. Call me. 

> Cas, it’s me. Listen, I’m sorry about what happened after Detroit. Please, call me. 

> Seriously Cas, what the fuck? Call me. 

 

Dean hunts. He looks for demons and interrogates them when he finds one. “Where is the angel?” He asks, but most of them don’t know a thing.

> Okay man, I’m freaking out now. Call me.  
> Cas, where the hell are you man? 

Until he meets Angus. The demon is cocky. Dean has him tied up on a chair in the center of a Devil’s trap. Yet, Angus smiles, makes jokes, laughs. He doesn’t respond to pain the same way the others do. Ruby’s knife is less effective; holy water doesn’t affect him much.  
“So, tell me Dean-o, how is your angel?” he asks, a grin on his lips.  
“I ask the questions.”  
“As you wish, big boy. But let me tell you something first. Come here.” The grin becomes wider. “Come on, I won’t eat you. Come here” he whispers, and after a moment of hesitation, Dean takes a few steps forward and bent his head. “Your pretty little angel, your pretty little blue-eyed thing, he won’t come back, you know that? You won’t see him again. He is tough, but believe me, he’ll break.” Dean doesn’t hear the burst of laugher that comes out of the demon’s mouth. Time has stopped. Right here, right now. They got Castiel. Castiel feels and he is being tortured. There is a click somewhere in his head or maybe in his heart and suddenly, Dean doesn’t care anymore. He goes to the bag on the bed and comes back with salt, iron, and a Palo Santo wooden stake. “I’m not afraid of you,” Angus says, but Dean knows he is lying. He has lost his smile.  
“You should. I guess you knew Alastair, right?”  
“You wouldn’t.” Angus answers, straightening on his chair. It’s been years but Dean can feel the power and desire. It’s so intoxicating he could sink in it. Being hated and feared through pain. But being loved too, between two cuts into the skin, being worshiped for stopping the pain. The pleasure and sensations come back way easier than Dean would have thought.  
“I’m just getting started here.” Dean pours salt on the bloody knife. “You appear more resistant than the others. That’s good. That’s really good,” –he takes a syringe— “because, you see, the more resistant you are,” –and fills it with holy water—“the more creative I become.”

> Cas. It’s Dean. It’s been eight weeks since the last time we saw you. I’m worried as hell. Please come back. Please come back to me, Cas. I need you. 

Dean doesn’t have much hope. Castiel is being tortured and Dean can’t find him. He hasn’t slept in days. He leans against the Impala somewhere near the eastern border of Texas. He could go back to South Dakota. Or maybe go to Pontiac, Illinois, to see if they visited Jimmy Novak’s house, or—

In his hand, his phone is ringing.  
“Cas?” he yells. He waits a moment but nothing happens. “God, Cas, where are you?”  
“Hello Dean.” And that’s not Cas at the other end. The voice is Sam’s.  
“Lucifer.”  
“So nice of you to recognize me. Hi.”  
“Where is Castiel?”

“I’m sorry, he is not available at the moment. I listened to your message though. It’s very sweet.”  
“What did you do to him?”  
“Oh, well, would it be that fun if I told you?”  
“You son of a bitch! When I find you, I swear—“  
“Let’s be realistic Dean, you and me both know you wouldn’t be able to harm your brother.”  
“You’re not my brother! You’re the same brand of cockroach I’ve been squashing my entire life. An ugly, evil, belly to the ground supernatural piece of crap. The only difference between them and you, is the size of your ego.”  
“Dean. I wish things were different. I’m sorry about Sam, but it had to be your brother, it had to be.”  
Dean’s emotions go from white anger to blurred despair. Was the Devil trying to gain his forgiveness?  
“Listen,” Lucifer says, and for a quarter of second, it feels like Sam, “go twenty-five miles to the North and you’ll find Castiel.” Dean is suspicious and the Devil seems to feel it. “I was going to kill him,” he explains, “but it’s fairer that way right?” And before Dean adds something, he hangs up.  
As he drives, Dean tries to understand Lucifer’s last sentence. “It’s fairer this way right?” It takes him nearly ten miles to figure. It was a brother for brother trade.

Sam for Cas. Cas for Sam.

That was sick. So sick and disgusting that Dean had to stop the car to breathe some fresh air not to puke. Sam for Cas and Cas for Sam. That’s far from fair. Dean feels shame and guilt flood him. He tries to push the thought away but it’s already there. Cas is not worth Sam.  
Dean goes back in the car and increases the volume of the stereo.

When he spots Cas leaning against a tree on the side of the road, he slows down dramatically and rushes towards him. He is half-naked and looks awful. More than awful. He has blood everywhere. Red deep cuts on his arms, on his neck. His hands are holed. Sigils carved in his chest, pink scars behind them like re-opened wounds. The right side of his face is burnt. He bleeds from the mouth and nose and ears and eyes. He’s unconscious. Dean kneels by his side but doesn’t dare touch him. Castiel must hear him because he opens his eyes and lifts a hand. Dean takes it and cups Cas’ jaw with his other one.  
“Oh God, Cas.”  
“Dean, I’m…”  
“Sshh, don’t talk, don’t talk.”  
“I’m… I’m sorry. Dean. The angels. They… They left.”

The angels left. Dean believes Cas without a second thought. He doesn’t quite know how to welcome the news though. With or without them, it has always been Sam and him against the world. But Sam is gone and Dean realizes they still represented, you could say, some hope. Hope to have his brother back, even, maybe, hope to save the planet. They were angels after all. Dicks, but angels. And they left. That’s like the last thing he expected and still, it’s a fucking blow. The angels left and Dean realizes, somewhere, deep down, he still had faith in them. You idiot.

Cas below him is shaking and cold. When Dean looks at him, he can see fear and panic in his eyes. And that’s even more frightening that the news by itself. Cas doesn’t fear. Cas is strong and emotionless. Yet, for some time now, he isn’t anymore.

“Come on Cas, we have to get you out of here. I've to bring you back to Bobby's.”

“Dean,” Cas says. “They left. They left.” He weeps. “It’s my fault.”

“Shut up Cas!” Dean says and he takes the angel’s face with both hands, looking him in the eyes and waiting for him to look back. “It’s not your fault, you hear me? It’s not your fault.”

Cas suffers, Dean sees, but the physical wounds are not the worst ones.

Slowly and carefully, Dean takes the angel in his arms so that Cas' back is against his chest. Dean brushes his hair and whispers next to his ear that everything is gonna be alright and that they are gonna be okay. Eventually, Cas' sobs stop. The angel's head is leaning against Dean’s shoulder as he is calming down.

“Don’t leave me Dean,” Castiel says after some time. “Please. Please, don’t leave me.”

“I’m not going to leave you Cas.”

Dean tightens his grip on him. He is craving to call him something, Babe, Honey, Darling, to call him something to mark him his but he doesn’t because that’s not him and that’s not Cas and whatever there is between them, it’s the end and they lost people and that’s just sick. “Not now, not ever.”

“How is he?” Dean asks, eyes down, a beer in his hand.

“His injuries look very bad. He lost a lot of blood. His fever is too high.” Bobby answers. He goes and washes his hands. “What the hell happened back there?”

“Yeah, well, Hell happened. Lucifer tortured him.”

“Crap. Do you know what he wanted with him?”

“Not yet.”

“And the angels have left?”

“That’s what Cas said.”

“Crap.” Bobby repeats and Dean looks at him.

“Oh, come on. It’s not such a bad thing, right? It could actually be good. It’s one thing less to take care of.”

“I’m not so sure Kid. Castiel...” Bobby begins, and he puts his wheelchair not far from Dean. “He is sleeping.”

“What do you mean he is—“ Dean frowns.

“I mean laid down, eyes shot, snoring a little, sleeping.”

“Are you sure—“ Dean growls.

“I’m sure. I checked three. He is breathing. Just… asleep.”

“Angels don’t sleep.”

“Until now.” Bobby states. He pours some whiskey into a glass and drinks it bottoms-up. “The thing is, the angels’ leaving could have affected him more than we know. Affect his grace maybe. I am pretty sure he won’t be able to fly anymore and… it may be more difficult for him to heal. He might be not healing at all.” The old man says and Dean sees in his eyes he is waiting for his reaction.

“He will.”

“Dean, look—“

“He will, Bobby.” The anger in his voice is stronger that what he intended it to be. He puts his beer on the desk and goes for the whiskey instead. “He has to, Bobby. He has to. Because if he doesn’t, I don’t know… I don’t know what I would do.” Dean says and it’s silly and childish and chick-like and he hates saying that kind of stuffs but it’s the horribly hurting truth. Dean takes his head between his hands, elbows on the knees.

Bobby stays silent for a long moment but Dean can feel his gaze on him. When the silence begins to weigh on both of them, the old man asks: “Is there something going on between you two?” Dean looks at him. He feels a little betrayed because he doesn’t want the news to spread around. He doesn’t even know what it is but he would have prefer to bury that thing he feels, deep in his mind, behind everything else, so that nobody would see his dirty little secret. He thinks about denying everything with an outraged face but he is too tired for that.

“I don’t know about him.” He finally says. “I won’t act on it, Bobby, you know I won’t.” He pauses. “After everything, I just can’t lose him too. I couldn’t stand it.”

Bobby sighs and pours himself another drink. “How are you?”

Dean is taken aback by the question. “Who cares?”

“Listen to me, son. I’m not here to lecture you, but I don’t think it’s healthy for any of you. He is an angel. They left. We don’t know what they want to do about him but it can’t end well.”

“So what, you want me to abandon him? Let them have him like a piece of meat?” Dean bursts, standing up.

“I did not say that.” Bobby tells him, and he calms down a little. “I’m just saying… the last time I saw you in this state was just before you made a deal to save Sam. I know you boy. I know the kind of stupid things you are able to do in those situations. Just, this time, don’t.”

Dean stands still for a minute, thinking. “I’m going to check on him,” he says while leaving the room.

Cas is in the room next to Bobby’s. It’s old and dusty but it’s the only one the old man has access to. Dean was thinking about moving the angel upstairs after Bobby had looked at his wounds but it seems he is too weak for that. As Dean opens the door and slides inside, Castiel is looking at him. He is laid in a fetal position, knees to his chest and hands between them.

Dean goes to the bed and crouches at the level of his head. He checks the angel’s breathing and looks at his burns, avoiding his eyes.

“Dean—“ Cas tries.

“You were sleeping,” Dean says.

“I know.” Cas answers. After a cheering nod from the other man, he adds: “It’s weird. But not new. It’s like I knew the sensation but forgot it a long time ago.” There is a faint smile on his lips and Dean forces himself not to stare at them. Even in the half-darkness, he can see the purple shade they have. He doesn’t like that.

“Did you hear us?” he asks, now focusing on the too pale skin in front of him.

“Yes, I did.” Cas puts his hand on Dean’s cheek and the man leans into it. “You cannot do that.”

Finally, Dean meets Cas’ eyes. “Do what?”

“What you have been thinking of doing since Detroit. What you are more than ever willing to do in this instant.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Do not take me for a fool, Dean Winchester. I raised you from Hell, I rebelled for you, I accepted free will because you showed me how to. You can’t go back on your words now.”

“I told you, I don’t—“

“You are going to say yes to Michael.” And it was like Cas had punched him in the guts. He hadn’t realized it until now but yes, he was going to call Michael. It had been like a subtext for a few months and Cas had pulled it out in the surface. It both scares him and comforts him that the angel understands him better than he does himself.

“You can’t ask me to fight on my own, Cas. I can’t lose you.” Dean says, closing his eyes. He feels Castiel’s thumb brush his eyelid and he leans towards the angel. Dean’s heart skips a beat. He opens his eyes and Castiel’s are on him. Castiel inclines his head and they are less than an inch apart. Dean feels Castiel’s hot breath on his chin. He slightly parts his lips without paying attention. Castiel looks at him and Dean wants to shift closer.

“You won’t lose me.” The angel says, and he closes his lips on Dean’s. The touch is soft and warm and comforting. It lasts a few seconds and Dean gently breaks the kiss. He knows the building lust in him is not shared. Cas is just being nice. And he told Bobby he wouldn’t do anything.

He rests his hand in Cas’. They stay like that a long moment and Castiel falls asleep again. When he is sure he won’t wake up, Dean lets go of his hand and leaves. Before closing the door, he takes a last look at the angel. “I’m sorry, Cas.”

He goes out by the back door, not to be seen. He walks a few minutes and stops at the house boundaries. He sits on the car.

Bobby is going to hate him until the end of his days, Dean knows it. Castiel could have done the same at one point, but now Dean is not so sure. Surely he will be disappointed, but Dean hopes he won’t hate him. He couldn’t bear it. The man chuckles at the thought because in the end, he won’t be here to see it so… whatever. Bobby will take good care of Cas, he is sure. And when Cas is back on his feet, he’ll look after him too. They will be alright. All will be over and they will be alright.

Dean won’t. Never will. Not in a world without Sam, not in a world where God let Lucifer take his brother.

Jimmy Novak once told him being an angel vessel was like being chained to a comet. Castiel told him once Michael was far more powerful than Raphael which was saying a lot in front of the latter’s empty vessel. Dean knows he won’t survive this. But that’s not the point. It’ll save the world from an inevitable end. And he might even find peace on the way. So he steps forward and looks at the sky.

“Michael! Come down, you son of a bitch.”

“I wanna say yes! You hear me?”

“I wanna say yes. Come down you bastard!”

Dean waits, arms in the air, but nothing happens. He shouts and yells and screams “YES” till he is blue in the face but nothing happens.

When Dean goes back to the house, it’s past midnight. He spent hours there, saw the sun going down and the moon rising. There is some barking in the distance when he passes the front door but he doesn’t hear them. The constant buzzing in his ears makes him deaf. His shoulders are heavy with despair and guilt and he is in the room on the first floor and he doesn’t remember how he got there. He sits on the bed, opens the drawer next to it and takes out the bottle of scotch. It’s not whiskey and whiskey would have been better but… whatever. Anything is enough as long as it knocks him off in less than an hour. Scotch could certainly do that.

The liquid burns down his throat and Dean welcomes the pain with a smile. It’s an old friend he doesn’t need to talk to and that’s just what he wants. A blank mind. He takes another few drops and dries his mouth with the back of his hand. A blank mind and a few days of sleep. Maybe more.

Dean isn’t aware of Cas presence until he sees his shape in the frame of the door.

“Dean.” The angel whispers and Dean knows he knows.

“You shouldn’t have left the bed,” he says and brings the bottle back to his mouth.

The angel sits by his side on the bed and puts his hand on Dean’s knee. “Dean,” he murmurs again.

“Shut up, Cas. I don’t want your pity.”

“Dean.”

“I said SHUT UP.” Dean bursts and shoves Cas’ hand off. Roughly, Dean grips the angel by the hair and pulls hard.

It’s there. It’s back. The Wrath. The Want. Dean’s burning desire of hurting Cas, of seeing blood and bruises blossom on his skin, of putting his fist around that perfect throat, of re-opening those wounds and see how the angel beg, how much he could take and when he would fall. The craving of tainting his fucking grace.

But before he does anything, Cas’ gentle fingers are on his jaw and cheek and his face comes closer until their mouths touch.

The kiss is raw, not at all like the one hours ago. It a melting of tongues and biting of lips. Dean’s hands goes on the angel’s neck and back and presses furiously, bringing them closer and closer until he can feel the heat of the other body.

“Dean,” Castiel whispers again, but that time, it’s like a plea, low and full of… lust. “Dean, please. I want to help. Let me help you.” Cas’ eyes are blown wide, as he looks into Dean’s. His breath is jerky and his hand slides down Dean’s chest, resting on his ribs.

“Cas, stop.” He says, without wanting him to. “You don’t know what you are doing—”

“I do—“

“—and even if you do, there are tons of reasons why we shouldn’t do this.”

“Let me help you.” Castiel says. He sits on Dean’s lap and hides his face in his neck. Dean feels the angel’s erection on his thighs and it sends a jolt right down his own cock. “Is it because of the body?” Cas asks and he takes Dean’s hands and puts them on his hips. “Is it because it’s a man? Because, if you asked, I could… I could…”

“No Cas, that’s not…” he sees relief in the angel’s eyes.

“Let me help you, then.” Dean closes his eyes, fighting the urge of letting it go. He can’t. He can’t because it’s Castiel, Angel of the Lord, the one who saved him from Hell and from a lot more of other things. He tightens his grip on Cas’ hips and feels the angel moving them slowly. “Is that because you think you don’t deserve this? Because you’re wrong.” Cas lifts his chin and kisses him, hesitant like a child but more skillful than he should be. “I want to help you, Dean.” He pauses and waits for Dean to look at him in the eyes. “I want you.”

And that’s what makes Dean’s mind go blank. No more regrets, no more guilt, just a quickly growing sensation of lust, want and need. Taking Cas by the waist, he flips him over and lays him down the bed. Cas gasps in surprise and lets Dean strips him without a word. Once he is done, Dean puts gentle kisses on Cas’ eyelids. “Relax,” he says and the angel’s breathing instantly calms down. Dean kisses him on the cheek, the jaw, the chin, the side of the neck, the collarbone, the shoulder. Each time his lips make contact with the angel’s skin, Cas shivers so Dean keeps going, making sure he doesn’t touch his wounds. Ribs, waist, hips. Cas begins to pant when Dean goes to his inner thighs.

“Have you ever done this?” Dean asks, watching the new expressions on Cas’ face. The angel shakes his head and Dean takes his hard cock into his fingers. He strokes it a few times, earning low groans from Cas before dropping it and reaching for the drawer again. Cas tries to protest but he covers his mouth with his own and deep kisses him. When he gets the lube and condoms, Dean goes back between Cas’ legs and puts the head of the angel’s cock into his mouth. It’s heavy on his tongue. Dean is careful not to use teeth and begins to lick the head, sliding into

the slit on top of it and pressing on that spot under the crown. Then, as he puts lube on his fingers and toys with Cas’ entrance, the angel bounces his head back. His toe curl and he fists his hand into the sheets.

“Dean,” the angel whimpers and Dean slips his finger inside. Fearing the angel could be hurt, he takes more into his mouth, sucking hard at the cock, licking all the length of it. Cas loosens around his finger so Dean pushes further, curling it and brushing. When he slides out, Dean comes back with another finger which has Cas bucking and moaning a little more loudly. “Dean,” Castiel says again, and the angel draws him by the shoulder until their mouths meet again. His eyes flutters closed and his mouth goes slack when Dean crooks his fingers and brushes against his prostate.

Seeing Cas angling his hips makes Dean’s cock jump in his jeans. But despite the ache in his lower body, Dean’s mind is concentrated on pleasing Cas. He can’t risk to losing himself like he almost did twice now. So he restrains the roar of his instincts, the voice in his head that tells him just to take and not to care, and meticulously proceeds in opening Cas so that it won’t be painful. It’s about Cas, it’s about pleasuring Cas. And maybe, just maybe, it’s about making a point. Proving himself he doesn’t screw up everything he does.

That’s why Dean finally withdraws his fingers, not paying attention to his name on Cas’ lips again and again. He kisses him and bites his lower lip and takes the condom on the sheets. However, when he is on the verge of putting it on, the angel stops him. He seems dizzy and all flushed everywhere, but he still manages to say: “I want to feel you.” Dean hesitates for a second but realizes soon enough that he doesn’t care. He is clean, the angel must be, and even if they are not, it’s the end of the world and they should worry about other things. So he lines himself up with Castiel and slowly pushes the head and then the entire length of his cock inside. He carefully watches Cas’ face for any sign of discomfort or worse, of pain, but there is only bliss and a slight smile that he has never seen before. Dean waits a moment and starts rocking his hips gently.

As he fastens his thrusts, Dean begins to lose his concentration, Cas’ tightening around him, granting him low gasps and whines and words that Dean briefly suspects to be Enochian. He closes his eyes and let himself feel, as Castiel pulls him into another kiss, lazy and sloppy. They press their foreheads against each other and Dean’s hips speed up. “I need you, Dean Winchester,” he tells him out of the blue and there is something holy with the way the words are said that makes Dean feel, deep down, the sudden urge to wail. He buries his face into Cas neck, bites roughly and thrusts harder as if it could suppress his emotions, leaving only the mechanics. Beneath him, Castiel’s entire body jolts and quivers.

“Dean,” Cas says, and he knows that’s a warning, “I… there’s—“

“I know,” and Dean’s tone is surprisingly composed. “Let yourself go.”

Cas’ fingers are on Dean’s chin. “Look at me. Dean, look at me, I want to see you.”

So Dean opens his eyes and looks at Cas, at his mouth opening at each one of his thrusts, at his blown wide pupils, at the blush on his cheeks and the red on his ears. The gaze Cas is sending back is deep and meaningful, as if he was looking right into his soul, which Dean is convinced he is.

Simultaneously, Dean’s fingers go on the head of Cas’ cock and Cas’ goes on the handprint on Dean’s shoulders. The handprint he made, like what seems to be a life-time ago. As he places his hand on the scar, Dean feels sparkles under his skin. He watches Castiel melt underneath him and sees in his eyes the moment he passes over the edge. Cas’ knees clamp on Dean’s hips and his insides narrow around Dean’s cock. Before he can do anything, Dean’s coming, hiding his growl in the angel‘s collarbone.

Cas’ gently passes his hand through Dean’s hair and that’s what brings him back to lucidity. He lazily lays down the bed, next to Cas, letting putting his arm around the angel’s waist, keeping him close.

“You shouldn’t have come.” Dean whispers into the angel’s ear. “But I’m glad you did.”


	3. 2011

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A millenium after the last chapter, here is the third one.

Dean keeps on praying for three months after that time. Sometimes, he comes back breathless and eyes red. Sometimes, he disappears in the night. Cas even heard him twice, yelling at the sky as if it’d make any difference. Castiel doesn’t know how to manage this sudden amount of hope so he doesn’t ask questions and acts like nothing happens. Dean has faith, Castiel understands, and it frightens the angel as much as it contents him. It doesn’t last though. Dean seems tired of it, of praying and shouting out loud and believing in something that won’t come. So, one day, he stops, as quickly as he had begun. Castiel is relieved.

When Castiel is strong enough to travel, Dean and him hit the road. They wander from city to city, searching for anything that could help. They don’t hope to find the answer to all their problems. Hell, they don’t hope to find anything at all but it keeps them busy, focused. Basically, it prevents them from falling into madness. 

Castiel gets accustomed to hours sitting in the Impala, the crappy motel rooms, the fast food and the same five tapes Dean plays over and over. If things were different, Castiel often thinks, he’d have liked going on like this. The two of them, the road, that fake happiness floating around. Castiel sometimes panics because he clearly is becoming human and the angels left and God left him. Dean sometimes calls Cas “Sam” because he doesn’t pay attention and it’s like he’s back to that previous life when they used to kill monsters and drive. Castiel sometimes doesn’t talk for a few days because his wings are literally falling apart and the pain is more than he can stand. Dean sometimes comes back drunk from a bar or gets into a fight because if he can forget the mess they are in for a few hours, he does. 

They end up having sex each time one of them is about to fall over the edge. It’s rough or gentle, fast or slow, loving or animal. But each time, it’s more and more desperate. They need it. They need each other, that proximity only sex can provide. They need to feel each other’s warmth and breath, they need to hear their name on the other one’s mouth, and they need that burning sensation that reminds them they are alive. So Dean pulls over and it’s messy in the backseat, it’s white hot and impulsive. So Cas wakes up in the middle of the night and it’s lazy, sloppy, deep and tender. Dean makes jokes when Castiel can barely walk the day after and the angel begins to understand what’s funny from what’s not. 

One day Dean asks if Castiel wants to stop by that restaurant on the side of the road, the nearly-not-a-celestial-being-anymore answers “Yes, of course Dean, I would love to eat burgers and French fries for the fortieth time this week.”  
Dean looks at him for longer than usual. “Was that sarcasm?” he says eventually.  
“You think?” Castiel answers, rolling his eyes.  
“My, my! What a rebellious teen you would make. Who are you and what have you done to the nerdy angel?”  
“Eat me Dean.”  
“Be careful with that, I might do it.” He says with a wink.

Weeks pass by and if the Apocalypse wasn’t their daily background it could have been more than nice. However, Reality knocks at their door somewhere between the end of May and the beginning of June. 

Dean is sleeping on the bed. Castiel noticed a few days ago that he seems tenser than before while asleep. Though, that doesn’t say much because Castiel has never seen him more edgy and irritated. Anyway, the angel is sitting at the table, reading about the presidential elections to come in some newspaper when Dean’s phone starts ringing. Cas picks it up; The number is unknown.  
“Hello?”  
“Cas?”  
“Who is it?”  
“It’s Chuck.” He poses, surely waiting for some greetings that don’t come. “I- I thought it was Dean’s phone.”  
“He is sleeping. How are you Chuck?” It was rather odd to hear from him after so much time. The boys had stayed in touch but since they had faced Raphael, the night Sam broke the last seal, Cas had not seen him once. Actually, the falling angel may have been a little harsh with his question; he has never been very fond of the prophet.  
“I haven’t had visions since the angel left if that’s what you’re asking.” So he knows. Of course he does. “I’m sorry about what happened to you by the way. With Lucifer.” That time, Castiel isn’t surprised. He touches the wounds on his arms. It’s healing very slowly and he’ll have scars.  
“I’m fine,” he says, and that’s a poor lie. “What do you want?”  
“Yeah, right. There’s something we should talk about. I talked to Bobby Singer already and I’m on my way to Sioux Falls. Could you meet me there?”  
Chuck sounds worried. Cas turns towards Dean. He knows now from experience that the human need a few hours of sleep every now and then and they drove all day. The angel doesn’t sleep much even though he feels more and more tired as the days pass. However, even if he hasn’t moved, Dean’s eyes are now opened.  
“Can’t you tell us by phone?”  
“It’s rather important, it would be better if—”  
“I understand. We should be there by tomorrow night.”

When Cas hangs up, Dean puts his head under the pillow, groaning.  
“By tomorrow night?” Castiel doesn’t answer and put the duffel bag on the table. “Dammit, Cas, I need to sleep.”  
“He said it was important.” Dean groans louder. “If you taught me to drive it’d be easier for both of us.”  
“In Baby? I’d rather destroy her myself.”  
“I maneuvered some tricky machines, you know,” he says, throwing some of their stuff into the bag.  
“As in?”  
“As in The Argonaut.”  
Dean sorts and smirks. “A boat Castiel, that’s a boat.”

Cas doesn’t much appreciate being laughed at like that. Though, he waits until they’re half the distance from Sioux Falls before getting his pay back. When he can see the road becoming straight for several miles, the angel gets comfortable on his seat and puts his bare feet on the dashboard. Dean looks at him and frowns but says nothing. Castiel put his hand on Dean’s thigh and slides up, towards his crotch.  
“Cas, whatcha’ doing?” Instead of answering, Castiel stokes Dean’s inner thigh and brushes lightly over his fly. He unzips himself and palms his own crotch through his pants, moaning slightly. Cas’ heart begins to pound in his chest as he presses the heel against his hardening cock and sees Dean’s adam apple bob as he swallows. The angel smiles a little before closing his eyes. He focuses on the memory that involves both of them in the motel bathroom, fingers around his cock and Dean moving against him, inside him…  
Cas waits till he has Dean’s full attention. He knows it when the human rolls his hips into Cas’ hand. Castiel takes his own cock out of his trousers and starts off slow. “Stop that,” Dean orders him and his jaw is tight. The angel traces a finger straight up his length and around the crown. His thumb strokes under his head and Cas lets out a whine. He pushes up into the slit, teasing out a bead of precome. His other hand goes underneath Dean’s pants and he can feel Dean's erection. He grips both their dicks and jacks them light and slow, stopping every other stroke. Castiel whimpers in his seat, his toes curl on the dash and his breath is heavy. Dean avoids looking at Cas, focusing on the road but the angel knows better. He tugs on Dean’s balls and jacks himself faster and harder, tilting his head up and panting for air. When Castiel feels Dean going nearer to the edge, he withdraws his left hand and slides under his own jeans, beneath his cock. Writhing and moaning, he rubs his fingers against his hole, spreading his knees.  
“Ey- Eyes on… the road!” he groans when he sees Dean’s gaze on him.  
But Dean doesn’t care. His throat is dry and his voice husky when he says “Go on Cas, let me see you come.”  
Cas’ lips shape around silent words and all he can do is punch out a moan as his whole body arcs back and shakes and trickles of come go on his shirt.  
Dean keeps silence for the rest of the trip. He seems somehow angry at Cas. They’ve just arrived in Sioux Falls, when Cas ask what’s up with him and Dean answers with a deep voice and an intense look: “When we are over with this shit, the door will be barely closed before I shove you up against the wall, pin your hands behind your back and toy with you until you're panting and asking me to touch those pretty cock and hole of yours.” Each and every one of his words is a weight on Cas’ shoulders. Carefully chosen, Dean speaks them slowly, pausing often and watching as Castiel’s heart skips a beat. “And when I’ll be done with that, I’m gonna get you so close you’ll try everything to have some release and by the end of it you’ll beg me to let you come.” They are now parked in the garage and they can see Bobby and Chuck ten feet away from the Impala, welcoming them. “I’m done treating you like some fragile virgin, Angel. Because that will only be what you deserve.” Dean is so serious and just frightening enough it sends shivers along Castiel’s spine.

Chuck looks better than when Cas last saw him. He gained weight and lost the pale skin and the lines.  
“My visions stopped maybe, five months ago. Around the time you met Lucifer.” Chuck says to Dean. He is looking at his feet, shrugging his shoulders and tugging on his shirt “I think I had one a few weeks after that, though.”  
“You think?” Bobby says sceptically.  
“Well, I don’t know if it was from the angel. I was… you know… kinda drunk and it was not as clear as before, but…”  
“What did you see?” Dean asks from the desk.  
“Croatoan.”  
It takes them all a few moment to understand. Castiel is the first to. He witnessed the mischiefs of the demon Croatoan on the isle of Roakoan a few centuries ago. He saw from upside when Sam and Dean fought the virus in Oregon.  
Dean makes two steps towards Chuck. “The virus? What about it.” Chuck murmurs under his beard. “Chuck!” Dean warns.  
“It—it was everywhere. Written in every city. New York, Washington, Los Angeles, Seattle, Chicago, Miami.” The guy was on the verge of hyperventilating now. Dean comes by his side and put a hand on his shoulder.  
“Okay, okay, calm down pal.”  
“You don’t understand Dean.” Chuck looks at Castiel.  
“Everywhere?” the angel asks.  
“Everywhere.”  
Dean and Bobby frown, now looking at him too. “What is it Cas. What does that mean?”  
Cas keeps his eyes locked with Chuck’s. Should he say it? Dean doesn’t need that. He will take the weight on his shoulders, Cas is sure. He will act the hero and decide it’s his job to save everyone. Cas can picture it very clearly. “Do you know when?”  
“By the end of next year for the major cities.” Chuck answers.  
“Cas!” Dean calls. He is losing patience.  
“It means the end.”  
“The end?”  
“Of the world, Dean.” Cas is now looking at him. “The end of the world. Chaos. Terror. Mayhem. Half the population turned in two months, the other half dead in a year.”  
Cas is waiting for him to shout but Dean doesn’t react. He leans back against the desk and cross his arms. “So that’s it,” he chuckles, “that’s their end game. Croatoan.”  
“It’s efficient, incurable and difficult to spot.”  
“Thanks Bobby, that’s really helpful.”  
“How many times do we have to… prepare ourselves?” the old man asks Chuck and Castiel.  
“Five months top.”  
“Great.” Dean says and Castiel knows it is sarcasm. Dean is thinking hard, eyes focused in front of him, and they are all waiting for him to talk again. When he does, it’s calmer than before, practical: “We need to be ready in less than three months. We need to warn the hunters, make them join us. And we need to hide, to find some place where they’re not gonna look for us. We need a quarantine zone.”

Bobby finds the perfect quarantine zone-to-be two weeks after. The Camp Chitaqua is lost somewhere in Iowa. It’s a former military camp left to rot but within a month, enough hunters have come to make it up anew.  
They build cabins and tents to house everybody. Dean decides they would put a shooting field on the back of the area. He lets Bobby deal with the archery they’ll need and asks Chuck to begin the inventory of supplies. Now that he thinks of it, Cas is sure it was more an order, really. But Chuck was idle at his best, and clumsily unhelpful the rest of the time. Dean begins to throw orders like drops of rain, Castiel notices. It’s not rude, nor illegitimate, it’s just there and everybody seems to accept him as the leader. 

The entire camp is surrounded by barbed wire topping fence. They’re not fully settled in the camp but they already are guarding the main entrance by turns. 

Slowly but surely, stories that can be related to the virus come to their ears. It’s more vicious than they were expecting, attacking families first, or small groups like parishes or clubs. Often, the last survivor takes all charges of the murders. At the end of August though, it becomes noisier. More people disappear suddenly –sometimes entire cities- and if the citizens hide behind an “it won’t happen to us” hope, Castiel knows it’ll soon let lead to panic. 

It is odd how living there becomes more natural every day. Once a week, they go on missions and bring back more supplies. Sometimes, Cas wonders why they’re so careful though the virus isn’t that bad at the moment and Dean answers vaguely that they need training before it hits them hard. So they train. Cas loses the trench coat once and for all and Dean and Bobby teach him how to shoot. By the beginning of October, they are nearly thirty, friends of the old man mostly, though there are some new faces. Castiel soon spots Alanna and her sister Karen whose village was taken by the Croatoan Virus not a month before, Tom, Jeff and Yeager, hunters from California, and Ethan, a young junky arrived in the camp a week ago. 

Castiel doesn’t know how to deal with Ethan. Apart from Dean, Bobby and Chuck, the inhabitants of the camp usually act like he wasn’t there, saying ‘Hello’ from times to times and respecting him of course, but they wouldn’t ask him for advice nor would he give them any order. Ethan is different though. He looks a lot at Castiel, smiles at him too often for Cas to be comfortable with it and once or twice; Cas even thought he was flirting with him.  
“He likes you.” Dean says one day as he sorts out stuffs Cas doesn’t care about. The angel chokes on his water.  
“What do you mean he likes me?”  
“I mean he wants to get into your pants, and he wants it to be dirty, that’s what I mean.” Dean doesn’t lift his eyes from what he is doing but he sounds grumpier than he usually is. Castiel goes behind him and puts his hand on Dean’s waist. “Is our fearless leader jealous of some peanut guy?” Cas smirks.  
“Fearless leader? Peanut guy? Where do you find your nicknames Cas, in a lucky dip?”  
“That’s not the point. Are you jealous because he likes me?” Cas’ hand slides south and cups Dean’s cock. “You shouldn’t be.” Dean stops what he is doing and lets out a growl, rolling his hips against Castiel’s. “I’d do anything for you Dean, you know that, right? Anything.” And just like that, Dean breaks the embrace and faces him with a look full of wrath.  
“I don’t care what you’d do for me, Cas”. His voice is flat but the harshness of it shakes the angel. “I have people that count on me; I have people that need guidance and safety. It’s the Apocalypse out there and I have to kill the Devil one way or another. I can’t spread myself for your little games and I absolutely don’t give a shit about your peanut guy.” Without another look towards him, Dean leaves the cabin. Castiel stays there, looking at the door a minute or two, stuck. He doesn’t understand where that came from nor why. 

Dean doesn’t come back that night and Castiel doesn’t see him the day after. When he asks Bobby, the old man tells him he went on a mission with Jeff, Alanna and some others.  
“Without me?” Cas snaps.  
“Well…” Bobby answers, and apparently, he doesn’t know what else to add as an explanation.  
For two days before Dean comes back, Castiel goes around in circles. He doesn’t know what to do or whom he could be useful to. He wanders in the camp and talks to the people but sees soon enough that most of them have more important things to do, even Chuck. He doesn’t really know why but he ends up on the porch of Ethan’s cabin. There is no door but a curtain of beads.  
“Hello?” He calls.  
“Take off your shoes,” says a voice inside. Castiel takes off his boots –he traded Jimmy’s shoes against military equipment as he did for the Trench some time ago- and enters the cabin. The room is small and Ethan is seated in a yoga posture in the center of it. There are posters on the walls and carpets on the floor. Castiel doesn’t know if he likes it or not but he is sure of one thing: there are too many colors. “You’re the Angel.” Ethan says, standing up, and it’s not a question. He is smiling.  
“That’s what they say,” Cas answers. Among the few who know about the Apocalypse, even less are aware of the thing about Castiel. It’s not some kind of big secret; they just thought it was unnecessary to mention it. To those who ask, Castiel doesn’t deny it but doesn’t talk about it either.  
“That’s some crappy answer you’ve got here, pal.” Cas’ look focuses on the other man. He is very tall –not far from Sam’s height, Cas guesses and the thought makes him sad for a second before he puts it away- and has blond hair with brown eyes. His face is lined and that makes him look older than he is. “Whatever,” Ethan tells him when Castiel stays silent, “Stories for another time, right?” He goes to the table and lights up some incense. “How can I help you, Angel?” He says and Castiel is pretty sure that little thing he did with his eye was a wink.  
“My name is Cas.” It’s been a while since the last time Castiel bothered to give his full name.  
“Yeah, I know. How can I help you?” he asks again and that makes him think about why he came in Ethan’s cabin.  
“I… I don’t know why I’m here, actually.” Ethan smiles again like he knows something and it seriously begins to piss Cas off. “I should go,” he says, but the other man takes his wrist before he leaves.  
“Dean is on a mission, isn’t he? Which means there’s nowhere you need to be.” Castiel nods. After a few seconds, Ethan sits back down the floor and invites Cas to do the same. He hesitates but does it anyway, uncomfortable with the posture, not knowing what to do with his legs; he imitates the other man and sits cross-legged.  
“How come you know about the Apocalypse and all that stuff?” Cas asks, because Ethan is far from the basic profile of an inhabitant of the camp. Neither a hunter nor a victim, from what they are aware of.  
“Stories for another time, man.” He says, smiling again. As he watches Ethan putting some tobacco on a paper sheet, Castiel wonders how he is able to smile that much considering the massive shitty situation they are in. He rolls the sheet and licks it. After bringing a lighter to the end of the cig and breathing a few times on it, he hands it to Cas. “You want some?” Castiel frowns. “Weed,” he explains.  
“Oh. No, thank you, I don’t do those kind of things.”  
Ethan laughs. “‘Those kind of things?’ You mean drugs, right? Call a spade a spade dude, it won’t kill anyone.” Castiel looks at the floor and blushes a little. The last years he passed on Earth had taught him not to be as blunt as he could be and to use a lot of superficial words to express one simple but rude idea. Dean had taught him that, as well as personal space, concept that Ethan doesn’t seem to know. His hand is on Castiel’s knee as he put the joint nearer to his face. “Come on, what do you have to lose?”  
Nothing, Castiel thinks instantly. But a few seconds of thinking and he realizes it’s not true. Dean, Bobby and Chuck still count on him. “I’ve already lost a lot,” he says, standing up and brushing the dust off his trousers. “I’ve already lost too much,” Sam, Jo, Ellen, my grace, he thinks, “I can’t risk to lose more.” He waves in Ethan’s direction and leaves the cabin.

When Dean comes back that night, he might be a little drunk but Cas pretends he doesn’t see because it’s as if his tantrum from two days before never happened. He loses himself in Cas’ body maybe even more than usual. He is gentle and intense, sucking at Castiel’s shoulder while his hand caresses his ribs, pulling slightly on his hair as he pushes in him, slow and deep. Each time Cas is about to moan, Dean swallows it with a kiss and when the angel goes over the edge, Dean’s lips are at his ear: “I need you so much Cas. It frightens me how much I need you. Don’t leave me Cas. Never fucking leave me or I might kill you.”

Dean acts as such for another month and Cas has never been so lost. By day, Dean Winchester is the fearless leader of camp Chitaqua. He is straight and curt, gives orders on a regular basis, and manages the camp as strictly as a military base. He doesn’t tolerate any mistake, Castiel’s least of all and yells at everyone, even at Bobby who can’t find excuses for Dean’s behavior anymore. By night, however, it’s another story; the way he fucks Castiel depends on his mood but it’s always attentive and careful if not loving –Cas refuses to think of that word though. 

Castiel goes on the missions again and shows his unwavering faith in Dean several times. He follows without questions and feels when something is wrong like when they heard of a ghost city on the edge of Iowa. They went there with a couple of people and crossed the path of a little group of Croats but Cas smelt them from a mile away and it saved their lives. On that same run, he was even able to kill some of the contaminated which was an improvement in Dean’s eyes; since he is becoming human, Castiel has some difficulties to deal with the powerfulness of feelings like remorse, pity and doubt. As a result, he hadn’t killed in over a year. 

It’s not before December that all hell breaks loose.  
“I need to get some stuff from Sioux Falls, kid.” Bobby says one day over lunch and Dean looks at him with laser eyes for calling him ‘kid’.  
“Why?” He asks. It’s a battle for dominance, Cas knows, Bobby being the older, Dean being the leader.  
“Because sooner or later, they’ll end up prohibiting travelling around.”  
“What are you talking about?” Chuck’s voice is low and afraid.  
“I’m talking about the mess to come. When we talked about your last vision, you said we had five months to get prepared. Well, we’re past that point and now we need to know more about what we’re facing and how we can kill it. However, when they understand the election thing won’t work because the world is going to turn into Zombieland, I guess they might want to reduce the risks by closing the states.” They are all left speechless. They had been so focused on the camp they didn’t think at all what would happen outside. “That’s why we have to get my books now.”  
Chuck and Castiel turn to look at Dean. His face is unreadable. “Okay,” he says eventually, “you two are coming too,” he points at Chuck and Castiel and it’s not a question. 

They decide to leave the following night. Dean puts the camp in Jeff’s hands but everyone knows it’s Alanna who’s actually in charge. Castiel smiles when he sees their fearless leader give his last commands to the both of them. They should be back in a week or so. Do not go on a mission farther than 20 miles while they’re away. If they see Croats around Chitaqua, call Dean. If someone is wounded, call Dean. If anything happens, call Dean. When their eyes meet, Castiel nods at Alanna. The young woman must be twenty-one or twenty two and her sister not older than sixteen. Castiel likes them because they remind him of Dean and Sam and that surely is also why Dean is so harsh with them. He taught them to shoot and kill their first week even if all the camp was against the idea. A few more instructions to the others and they are on the road. 

Dean is driving, Bobby as shotgun and Chuck and Cas in the backseats. As long as it will be, Castiel knows from the beginning it will be a silent and awkward drive. It’s a few hours before they make a stop and another few before they arrive in South Dakota. 

Once inside his house, Bobby goes to the library, Chuck upstairs. Dean takes out a bottle of Jack Daniels and sits down a chair. Cas watches him from the door. The house is peaceful and although he never was really fond of the place, being back brings him a feeling of nostalgia. It reminds him of those times when the brothers used to work on a case drinking beer and joking around.  
“You should stop thinking too much, Cas.” Dean says out of the blue before bringing the glass to his mouth.  
“Where does that come from?”  
Dean doesn’t answer, doesn’t look at him but drinks again. A couple of minutes pass and Cas is about to drop the subject when Dean eventually talks again.  
“I think we should stop seeing each other.”  
“Excuse me?” The angel says immediately.  
“I think,” Dean murmurs slowly, “you and I... What’s between us, it should stop.” He pauses again. “It’s not… It’s not right.”  
Cas’ mind goes blank. What the fuck is that? He gazes at Dean’s face and hands before suddenly bursting out in laughter. “Shouldn’t two people be in a relationship for one to break up with the other?” He asks, smile on his lips. Dean is still not looking at him.  
“You know what I mean.”  
“Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean; I know the great Dean Winchester isn’t the man for relationships.” Cas couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “The word you’re searching for is “Fuck”, Dean. You want us to stop fucking, don’t you?” Without paying attention, Cas has started to yell. “Bless God; you’re good enough to give me the talk! It’s not me, it’s you, right? Should we stay friends?”  
“Shut the hell up, Cas, you know it’s not like that.” Dean’s eyes are on the bottom of his glass, somehow mesmerized by the golden drink. He looks like a child caught with the hand in the cookie jar. He looks pitiable, the ex-angel thinks.  
“Oh, ‘it’s not like that’? Then how is it, Dean? Tell me, because frankly, I don’t understand and I’ve had enough with your shit! You tell me you need me and treat me like a whore the next minute. You tell me you’ll kill me if I leave and push me away ninety percent of the time. And now you ‘think we should stop seeing each other’? Because I’m not good enough for you, is that it? Or maybe the opposite? Because of your self-loathing crap thing? If you want to be that fucking stupid, go ahead Dean! Sam would be so okay with that!”  
Cas is shouting now, he can hear Chuck running down the stairs from a distance but he doesn’t care because Dean finally looks at him.  
“Don’t you dare talk about him.”  
“Or what? You’ll take your Fearless Leader voice and send me to my room? Don’t fucking tell me ‘it’s not like that’ because it totally is. You’re afraid to be near people because the last person you loved didn’t come back.” Bobby and Chuck are watching them, open mouthed. “But I don’t give a fuck about your self-esteem or mine, Dean! And don’t think for a second you know what’s good for me; you fucking me is the best thing that happened to me in the last millennium and if you can’t accept the tiniest waves of happiness because Lucifer is wearing your brother’s skin, then I don’t know if it’s worth it fighting for his soul!”

Castiel sees Dean stand up suddenly from the corner of his eye but he doesn’t see the punch that follows. The hit is hard on his cheekbone and his head hits the table in the fall; soon enough, there are drops of blood on the floor. Chuck is by his side in a second, calling his name. Dean is still standing in the middle of the room, hands closed. Once the prophet has checked on the angel, Bobby goes between Dean and Cas, facing the first.  
“You wanna explain what’s your problem, son?”  
“This isn’t your business and you certainly ain’t my dad.” Dean tells him harshly. The three of them look at Dean like they didn’t understand what he said. The angel is able to see the old man’s face but can’t read it. Bobby puts his wheelchair at Dean’s feet, where the later can’t avoid his look.  
“It seems you don’t consider me as such but you apparently need someone to tell you when you step over the line because you sure can’t see it by yourself.” They stare at each other for a long time, so long that it begins to be awkward for Cas and Chuck, still kneeling on the floor. However, when Dean is about to talk again, there is a distant bang in the courtyard and they all turn towards the nearest window. There is a second and a third bang, seconds after.  
“Cas?” Chuck calls a little panicky.  
“CAS!” Dean repeats when there is no answer.  
“I- I don’t know, I didn’t sense anything, but my head…”  
“Great,” the hunter says. Yeah, great, like it’s my fault! Slowly, Dean goes to the window and look through the blinds. “Crap, crap, crap.” Everybody stays silent for a moment. “Croats, lots of them. They must have heard us.”  
“You think.” Cas says, but Dean doesn’t even pay attention anymore.  
“How many are they?” Bobby asks.  
“Twenty-five? Thirty? Maybe more.”  
“We are trapped,” Chuck says and they all know it couldn’t be truer. In those moments, Cas regrets his powers the most. “What do we do? Are we going to die? I don’t want to die!”  
“Chuck, shut up!”  
It wouldn’t be easy, Cas knew. The car was more than fifty feet away from the house and the croats would have them before they even could touch it.  
“The kid is right,” Bobby says. “You three go; I can give you some time”. The old man says and it really looks like a bad joke.  
“Don’t be stupid,” Cas interrupts, “we’ll face them head on, like we always do”. He realizes now and then he sounds a lot like Dean and it would make him smile if their fearless leader wasn’t so silent. “Won’t we?”  
“Chuck, go and take the bags in the kitchen. Bobby, watch them and don’t make a noise. Cas, come with me.” They go upstairs and Dean gives him his shotgun before looking around for some useful stuff. “We won’t be able to leave, they’re too many.”  
“We can fight them,” Cas snaps, absently checking the shelves.  
“Not all of them, not without damages.”  
“Okay, what do you suggest?” Dean’s look makes Cas stops searching around. The discussion goes on, without a word but they’re needless in this instant. Cas doesn’t understand what Dean’s is trying to say. Not because he can’t, just because he doesn’t want to. Just because he already knew it would end up like this and that’s not acceptable.  
“You can’t be serious,” he says eventually.  
“You really think I’d joke about this kind of thing?”  
“You’d let him sacrifice himself so we can flee like cowards?” Dean doesn’t answer but his stare is enough for Cas to know. “What’s wrong with you? It’s Bobby we’re talking about, you make decisions you’d never have made a few months ago.”  
“Yeah, well, things have changed.” Dean’s face is impassive, his eyes empty.  
“I’m sorry but I can’t. I would rather die with him here than run like a rabbit.” Cas says and he nearly is at the door when Dean takes him by the shoulders and shoves him into the wall.  
“I. Won’t. Lose. You. You hear me?” his eyes are dark and focused, his arm on Cas’ throat, half-asphyxiating him. Cas tries to escape and loose his grip, in vain. Dean put their bodies together, preventing him from moving. “You can’t die. That’s not an option. You understand?” Cas nods. Dean’s eyes goes down on his lips, as to test him, to see if he can go further. Cas doesn’t object so Dean’s mouth slowly goes on his. Dean pulls him in his arms, takes him by the sides of his thighs and Cas jumps on his hips and Dean tightens his grip on him. He puts one hand on his neck and the other on the small of his back.  
The kiss is hot and messy, confused by the danger of the situation but more sincere than it ever was. Cas can feel Dean’s anxiety by the way his right hand caresses his hair. The other goes down to cup his ass and make sure the angel won’t go anywhere. Lips on lips, tongues linked, Cas opens his eyes to see Dean’s closed tight like he’s afraid the dream is about to change into nightmare. With all his body, Dean presses Cas against the wall and Cas can feel the tears in his eyes. I love you, he wants to say. I love you so much it’s crushing me to the core. And Dean brings his fingers to the angel’s face so Cas presses their lips together a little more.


End file.
